Of Paperweights and Swords
by Luck Kazajian
Summary: When Costis is repaid in kind for his injurious actions towards the new king of Attolia, the young guard receives a whole new perspective on the king, his Queen, and the state of affairs in Attolia. He realizes that there is much more to running a country than just sitting on a throne all day wielding power. A short conversation/oneshot.


**A oneshot that's been in the works for a while, prompted by reading _The King of Attolia_. Every time I read that book I realize why I like Eugenides so much. Enjoy!**

**All the characters are original to _The King of Attolia_ except for Theophilus the physician.**

**_Of Paperweights and Swords_**

Aris was relaxed in Costis' chambers, on a stool by the wall, when Costis dragged in. It was late, the sun having sunk, the scant illumination in the barracks coming from lanterns and sputtering candles. Even so, there was no missing the mottled purple bruise that covered the right side of Costis' jaw. Aris' eyes widened in surprise and sympathy.

"What happened to you?" he asked in greeting.

Costis unbuckled the sword from his belt and dropped wearily to his cot before he replied, "The king was angry." The words were stiff and slurred, coming between clamped teeth.

"And he hit you?" Aris asked, surprise evident in his voice. Eugenides had been known to lash out before, but Aris thought he had finally gotten a hold of his temper.

"No," Costis winced as he pulled off his breastplate. "He threw a paperweight at me."

"And you let it hit you?"

Costis shrugged. If he had deliberately sidestepped the object, Eugenides might have become angrier and thrown something else at him. As it was, it was only his quick reflexes that saved him from being hit straight in the face, which would have undoubtedly broken his nose. Or worse.

Aris seemed to understand Costis' position and smiled apologetically. "Does it hurt much?" he asked.

Costis glared at Aris as he lay back on his cot. Aris cleared his throat; it had been a stupid question.

"Maybe you should go see Theophilus," Aris suggested.

Costis gave a short, sharp bark of laughter. "And have him pour so much wine down my throat that I can't see straight? No thanks." It was a well-known fact that the so-called physician's cure to everything from stomach-aches to fevers to broken bones was copious amounts of wine. "I've already got a headache," Costis continued. "I don't need a hangover."

Aris rolled his eyes to the ceiling in resignation. Costis had a point. "Is there anything I can get you then?" he asked, standing and stretching. It was clear that Costis was in no mood for talk. Aris felt a yawn sneak up on him; it had been a long day.

"Some food would be nice," Costis muttered sarcastically. "Haven't been able to eat a thing all day."

"You mean the king hit you this morning?" Aris turned back from the door, incredulous.

Costis nodded.

"Why didn't you leave?"

"He was in a foul mood. He wouldn't let me."

Aris spread his hands in disbelief.

"He locked his attendants out again. Someone had to stay with him."

Aris thought he could detect a note of defensiveness in Costis' tone.

"For heaven's sake, Costis, you're supposed to be his personal servant, not his punching bag! He may be the king, but you shouldn't let him beat you up like this."

"Shouldn't I?" Costis asked, closing his eyes. Something in his tone told Aris that Costis understood something he didn't. And maybe he did after spending several hours with the king every day. Aris couldn't think of a reply and Costis offered no more conversation, so Aris turned on his heel and left.

* * *

The next morning Costis woke late. With a silent curse he leapt out of bed and hurriedly donned his armor and sword. He had not felt like cleaning them last night and didn't have time now. They would have to do. The sharp pain that had plagued him yesterday had faded to a dull throb. He opened his mouth experimentally and bit back a yelp as the throbbing intensified. He headed to the mess hall regardless; his stomach was not about to let him pass up breakfast.

When he arrived, the mess hall was nearly empty. The majority of patrols and training drills had already begun and most soldiers were on duty right now. To his surprise Aris was still there, though his squad was not. Costis dropped onto the bench beside his friend and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"I have a meeting with Teleus and don't have to report until later," Aris explained between bites of porridge. "What are you doing up?"

Costis grabbed a biscuit from Aris' plate and looked meaningfully at him.

"You're not going back to the king are you?"

"Haven't been dismissed."

"Costis, surely you aren't expected to show up like this! You look terrible."

"Do I?" Costis mumbled, taking a cautious bite of the biscuit.

"Yeah. The whole side of your face is swollen," Aris pointed out mildly.

Costis shrugged and gulped down a mostly un-chewed lump of biscuit. There wasn't much he could do about his face.

Aris sighed loudly but didn't say any more on the subject. Presently, he finished eating and excused himself, leaving Costis virtually alone in the hall. Costis managed to choke down half of the biscuit before the pain went to his head, knotting his stomach and threatening to make him lose what precious little he had been able to swallow. His appetite gone, Costis left the mess hall and headed to the king's chamber. When he reached the anteroom, he found the king's attendants milling about, trying to look useful and failing. As soon as he stepped into the room he was accosted with questions and accusations as to his appearance and his punctuality. It was no help to the situation that Costis wasn't answering; his recent attempt at eating had left his jaw sore. The situation probably would have dragged on for an interminable period, but the king's voice suddenly interrupted.

"Is that Costis?" he asked form the other side of the door

"Yes, Your Majesty," one of the attendants answered. Costis didn't remember his name.

"Send him in," Eugenides ordered. "But if anyone other than Costis enters this room, I'll tear his guts out and use them as curtains."

The attendants shuffled nervously. They didn't doubt the king's claim, however outrageous it sounded. They all heard the click of the lock being turned then someone prodded Costis in the back. Squaring his shoulders and steeling himself—the king seemed to be in no better mood than yesterday—Costis walked into the room.

"Lock the door," the king said from where he sat in a chair by the window. He didn't turn around.

Costis did as he was told, the key having been left in the lock. He turned it and pulled it out, carrying it over to the king. Eugenides held his hand out for the key before Costis even reached his chair. Costis stopped and dropped the key into Eugenides' palm then waited respectfully.

For a long moment, the king didn't move. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he folded his fingers over the key and, pocketing it, stood. When he turned to face Costis, he winced.

"That paperweight was heavier than I thought," he murmured. "Either that or I threw it harder than I thought," he added under his breath.

Costis didn't know what to say so he kept quiet. It was less painful.

"Have you seen Theophilus?" the king asked.

Costis shook his head.

"Good. I wouldn't have either," Eugenides answered, an amused smile on his face. Then he reached out and touched the bruise on Costis' face, taking Costis completely by surprise. Costis jerked back involuntarily. Eugenides wasn't angered by it.

"Hold still. I'm making sure it isn't broken."

Costis stood still, stiff under the king's touch. He shouted a curse as Eugenides ran his finger along Costis' jaw line, just under his chin.

"Watch your tongue, soldier," Eugenides chided, but he was grinning mischievously as he said it. He'd been known to use several colorful phrases of his own and at formal banquets, too. Eugenides pulled his hand back. "Well, it isn't broken."

Costis put a hand to his face, gingerly feeling his jaw.

Eugenides sighed again, this time for real. "I'm sorry about that, Costis. I lost my temper yesterday. I haven't found it yet," he warned, frowning. "But now we're even, don't you think?"

"I guess we are," Costis replied, chagrined.

Eugenides was referring to the time Costis had punched him in the jaw. Although, to Costis' credit, he had only used his fist, not a weighted glass sphere.

Eugenides looked down at the desk on his left and reached out with his hand, fingering the various papers and reports that littered its surface.

"What would you do, Costis?" he asked softly.

"Your Majesty?" The king's abrupt change in mood and conversation drew Costis up short.

"What would you do in my position?" Eugenides looked straight at Costis; there was no jest in his gaze.

"I wouldn't throw paperweights at my soldiers," Costis said. As soon as the words left his mouth Costis wished he could recall them. He tensed, bending his knees and bouncing to the balls of his feet, ready to dodge another flying object. He watched warily as the fingers of Eugenides' hand clenched, the veins standing out in sharp relief. Then Eugenides relaxed and chuckled, finally breaking into full-out laughter.

"You're probably right, Costis." The king paused thoughtfully. "But if I did, what then?"

Costis was silent for a long moment. Was the king testing him, asking him such questions? Surely he wasn't really seeking Costis' advice on such matters? Costis realized that the king was watching him closely, waiting for an answer. He licked his lips then answered, "Then I can only conclude that he gave you good reason to, Your Majesty."

Eugenides rolled his eyes and waved the title away dismissively. "This isn't a royal discussion, Costis," he said, his voice dropping into its natural, rougher Edissian lilt. Hooking a foot around one leg of his chair, he turned it to face Costis and dropped into it, draping his leg over the arm. "You answered what proper protocol demands. Not what you really thought. So, tell me," Eugenides asked again, "what should I do after I throw paperweights at my soldiers?"

"Hope that they don't throw their sword back at you," Costis muttered darkly.

Eugenides laughed. "They wouldn't be able to hit me."

"That assassin didn't seem to have trouble." Again, Costis wished to recall the words. And again, he tensed.

"You're as jumpy as a hunted deer today, Costis." Eugenides shook his head and gestured to a low, cushioned stool nearby. "Have a seat," he said when Costis remained standing. Costis sat.

"But you do have a point," Eugenides continued thoughtfully. "So why didn't you?" he asked abruptly.

"Your Majesty?"

"Drop the title, Costis," the king growled. "Why didn't you throw your sword at me yesterday?"

A thousand responses ran through Costis' head. Because you'd likely dodge it, pick it up, and throw it back. Because I'd be kicked out of the Guard. Because if you didn't kill me, someone else undoubtedly would. Because Teleus would have my head and the Queen would take the rest of me. Costis finally decided on simple and straightforward. "Because you're the king."

Eugenides closed his eyes with an exasperated expression, as if he were dealing with a small child who couldn't understand him no matter how simply he explained. "I'm disappointed in you, Costis."

For reasons Costis couldn't understand, the king's disapproval stung like a sharpened blade.

"I'm sorry, Y—" Costis bit his tongue to cut off the royal title.

"You know how sick I am of hearing those words?" Eugenides sighed. "No, don't say it," he held up his hand.

Costis realized that he had been about to say 'I'm sorry'.

"They," Eugenides roughly gestured towards the anteroom with his hook, "say them more than is healthy for a human being. If I had an olive tree for every time they said 'I'm sorry', I could cover the whole of Eddis with olive trees."

"But, why would you want to cover Eddis with olive trees?" Costis asked, genuinely puzzled.

"That is the point," Eugenides looked him in the eye. "I wouldn't." There was something dangerous about the low tone the king's voice took. Eugenides continued. "They think they owe it to me, as King. I've heard them talk the same way to Attolia. Although with her, they cower in fear and the words are a plea for life. With me, they are mockery. Just once, I'd like for someone to look me in the eye and snarl 'I'm not sorry and I'd like nothing more than to run you through with my sword'."

Eugenides laughed at Costis' face. "Don't look so stunned. I'd rather know what they're thinking than be left stabbing in the dark. You, of all people, should understand the feeling. You are a soldier, Costis. You like to know your enemy. An enemy that you cannot understand is a soldier's worst fear, am I right?"

"Yes," Costis replied guardedly.

"I once vowed I'd never touch another sword. But I find myself inseparably connected to the sharpest sword of all. Do you know what that is?"

Costis shook his head.

"The tongue, Costis. The tongue. I'd give anything to be a soldier with a tangible blade, rather than the King who must always dodge the knives that we cannot see," Eugenides spoke as if to himself. "Would you trade places with me, Costis?" he suddenly asked.

Costis took a deep breath, thinking about how it must feel to be the King. How it must feel to hold power, influence, and prestige in your palm. To wrap the petty nobles around your little finger. To live knowing that there were those who loved you, but just as many who hated you. To hold the weight of the world on your shoulders. For the first time since coming to know Eugenides, Costis wondered how the young king managed it and marveled at the strength that must lie behind his mischievous expression.

Finally, he found his voice, "Not for the world."

"Of course you wouldn't," Eugenides nodded, satisfied with the answer. "You're a soldier, born and bred. You're not cut out to be King. Me, I'm a thief," Eugenides sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Who in their right mind decided that thieves should be kings?"

"Attolia must see something in you," Costis ventured, feeling more at ease. "Are you suggesting that Her Majesty is mad?"

Eugenides laughed so loudly that he startled Costis. It was some time before Eugenides could get enough of a grip on himself to speak again.

"Attolia? Mad?" he spluttered. "You must be blind, man. The only woman madder than Attolia is Eddis."

After a moment of shock at the flippant way that Eugenides discussed the realm's monarchs, Costis mustered the courage to joke, "Then why didn't you marry her?"

"In backwards Eddis we have this custom," the King said, a smile tugging the corner of his thin mouth. "You don't marry your relatives, and Eddis happens to be a cousin of mine. Besides, we'd argue too much," he added dismissively. "Because the only man madder than Eddis is me."

Costis grinned despite himself, only wincing slightly at the pain in his jaw. Eugenides had found his sense of humor again. And no matter what anyone else said, the young guard found himself liking this new king more and more with each surprising revelation the one-handed thief chose to reveal.

"Well," Eugenides sighed. "Now that I've got you smiling again, I should let those buffoons back inside so that they can do their job. Otherwise, they'll fill my Queen's ears with rumors of my misbehavior. And we wouldn't want my reputation tarnished, now would we?" he grinned conspiratorially.

Costis nodded, though he didn't think that the King's reputation among the servants could get much worse.

Eugenides tossed him the key. Costis barely managed to catch it.

"Let the dogs in," Eugenides waved his hand at the door, "so they may lick their master's boots."

**Anything to say? Please let me know.**


End file.
